Finally Realize It Was There The Whole Time
by colormyheartred
Summary: based on the tumblr prompt: "at school there's an english teacher and an american teacher and they always glare at each other and when they pass each other in the hallway the american teacher will say 'good show governor' and the english teacher will say 'god bless the land of the free' both in terrible accents and like the whole school ships it" captain swan modern au


It starts on the first day of class.

The air is thick with anticipation and she's excited, because this is going to be a good year; she can just feel it already. She has her class lists memorized and her lesson plans in a neat orderly stack for the week. She knows exactly what she's doing this year and it feels great.

The crisp autumn air is still a twinge warm and she smiles as she walks enters the school and starts walking down the empty hallway toward her classroom. This is her fifth year teaching at Storybrooke Middle and she _loves _it. It's always been a dream of hers to inspire kids, especially through the study of American History.

Blame her father for that one. He's the one who drug her along with him to those reenactments in Boston as a teenager. And her mother's the one who taught her the joy of teaching, so really it's _both_ of her parents' faults that she's doomed to a life of teaching kids about probably one of the more boring subjects in the school.

But she's good at it, and she knows it. Kids love her and the lessons she gives. And she loves every bit of this life.

Her classroom, room 115, is across the hall from an English class with a brand new professor whom she has still yet to meet.

She brings her things into her room and takes a smiling breath in through her nose as she scans over the room she'd prepared just the past Friday.

Emma Swan leaves her classroom door propped open so it's inviting and skims over a few pages of the textbook that she's planning on reading a little from. A clattering sound and a muttering of curses interrupts her from getting any further than a sentence in.

Amused, she quirks a brow and slips back toward her door, finding a man crouched on the ground, picking up a smattering of what she presumes is his dropped paperwork and books.

"You better not swear like that when the kids show up, Sailor."

He looks up at her, big blue eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. He collects the last of his papers and rises, smiling a little at her so that dimples indent his cheeks adorably.

"Aye. Well, I suppose such course language coming from an English teacher might be frowned upon in some circumstances."

His accent is thick and she finds that it only adds to the mountain of things about him that are stunning. His hair is mussed and his cheeks are filled with a dark scruffy beard. He's dressed like he's the best man at a wedding, minus the suit jacket.

And she's never seen him before in her life.

"Oh, are you the new English teacher?" she asks.

"Ah, so you've heard of me," he grins. He holds his hand out to shake. "Killian Jones at your service, Miss-"

"Swan," She hesitantly reaches out to shake his hand. "Emma Swan."

He hums as he shakes her hand, arching his brow a little and flitting his tongue over his lip. "Well, Swan, what do you teach, then?"

She glances back at her classroom with a little wry smile. "American history." That makes him snort and she drops her smile, tilting her head at him. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. It's just you Americans and your history, is all."

Emma becomes defensive, folding her arms to her chest while she gapes at him. "Well, I'm sorry we broke away from the suckish British monarchy to form our own free government. Maybe it just works for some of us."

Killian Jones' jaw shifts and he cracks a tiny, mocking smile. "Well, Miss Swan, it was a pleasure. I do hope you learn proper English eventually."

He takes a step back toward his classroom and she makes a face when she turns around for hers.

"I do hope you learn proper English eventually," she mimics in a low British accent.

Him and his stupid _English_ face.

..

Somehow, Emma manages to avoid seeing Mr. Jones at all for two full weeks. She eats her lunch in her classroom and she doesn't stay later than she has to. Their schedules must not align or something, because even at times where she swears she'll run straight into him, she doesn't.

She runs into him for the first time in two weeks by chance, really, walking back out to her car because she forgot to grab a DVD from her passenger seat.

He's standing right next to her car, unloading his things from a pick up truck. He's wearing his typical partial suit with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a tie tucked below his waistcoat, like some freaking _proper English gentleman_ or something straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

When he sees her, a bright smile crosses his lips.

"Ah! Morning, Swan!" She grimaces at him as she unlocks her door, which makes him give her a look. "What is it, love, cat got your tongue?"

Emma tosses him a look after grabbing the DVD from her car. "So you're playing it nice now?" He looks confused. "Last time we talked, you completely insulted me!"

He seems to get it, nodding a little before closing his door. "Ah. Well, I suppose as far as first impressions go, that wasn't my finest."

Emma snorts as she closes the door to her yellow Volkswagen Bug, because he is ridiculous. After she locks it, she starts to head back toward the building.

She really shouldn't be surprised that he follows her. She hears his feet hitting the pavement in a quick run.

"Come now, Swan," he tries. "Let's at least be civil. For the students at least."

She gives him a look, but he's grinning at her like he's being some sort of stand up comedian. "Not until you apologize for what you said."

He looks at her like he'd never be persuaded to do such a thing and it makes her laugh as she opens the door to the school.

"What?"

Emma looks over at him, shaking her head. "Nothing. You British people and your _history_."

He narrows his eyes a little at her as they walk past students standing at their lockers. The day is still new, but it being the second week, they're allowed to show up a little later than normal, and forgetting her DVD definitely set her back a bit in terms of getting her classroom ready for a day of teaching.

A boy from her class smiles at her and waves. "Morning Miss Swan!"

"Good morning, Henry!"

Henry looks at the English teacher beside her. "Morning Mister Jones!"

"Top of the morning, lad!"

Emma rolls her eyes, stopping as they arrive at their classes. Some of the kids are looking at them and she just shakes her head at the English teacher.

"Look, we don't have to be friends," Emma tells him, trying to keep her voice low. "We're coworkers. Let's leave it at that."

He hums, shrugging. His eyes are playful. "Very well. So long as you don't mind my disregard for American history."

She gives him another sharp look. "As long as _you_ don't mind my disgust with grammar Nazis."

Killian shrugs. "Seems like we're about even, then."

Emma nods, releasing a sigh, "Seems like it."

They eye each other up for a few lingering moments before they each turn for their individual classrooms.

Oddly enough, she doesn't dislike him as much anymore.

..

They see each other more and more everyday as the year drags on. The weather gets colder and she has to wear coats and scarves. He wears this ridiculous leather jacket that looks like it belongs to a biker with a waistcoat underneath, and she sometimes thinks about making fun of him for it, because _seriously_?

She has taken to holding the door open between classes so she can greet her students with worksheets, which, apparently, is what he's decided to do as well, so they stand there at their doors until the bell rings again and their classes are full.

One day, the dynamic changes.

He greets her when she comes to stand at her door. "Afternoon, Miss Swan. Having a good day so far?"

"Decent," she shrugs. She smiles and hands one of her students a worksheet.

"Wonderful," Killian grins. "We've not had much time to chat in these past few weeks, have we?"

Emma gives him a wary look. "Nope,"

"Well, I suppose that's for the best. I dunno what we'd talk about."

She shrugs, finding his gaze playful and carefree. "We could always talk about the American Revolution and how we kicked your British butts."

He hums. "I suppose we could." He looks at her with a little twinkle in his eye and all but shouts for the entire world to hear, "God bless the land of the free!"

Obviously it's done in his crappiest American accent. She glares at him as he winks at her.

"Good show, Governor!" Emma responds using her worst British lilt.

It makes him just smile at her as he steps back inside his classroom and she isn't sure what to feel about the whole thing.

Her class is giggling when she enters and she tilts her head at them, smiling. "What?"

"Your accent!" a girl in the front row laughs.

Emma plays dumb. "What do you mean? Was it not right?"

Their doors are still open when Emma looks across the hall. Killian seems to be having a similar discussion with his class. She hears his laughter, deep and real from where she stands at the foot of her desk.

"Oi!" she calls across the hall. "What'd you have for lunch today? Bangers and chips?"

More giggles from each classroom accompany the man heading toward his door. "I think you mean hamburger and fries, but I wouldn't know because I'm just a silly American."

Emma makes a face at him after she goes to shut the door. He just shakes his head as he laughs.

Her class doesn't settle down for a few moments, and when they do, one of the girls chirps up, "Miss Swan, Mister Jones really likes you."

Emma furrows her brow. There's a quick pang in her chest at even the suggestion the girl makes, but she shakes her head at the idea. "Why don't we get into our lesson, okay?"

..

They don't do it everyday, but every so often, either of them will say something completely ridiculous to the other in a terrible accent that everyone agrees sounds nothing like the actual thing, and the other will respond back in a similar fashion.

It never fails to get laughter out of their classes and smiles on their lips.

Emma starts to meet Killian in the teacher's lounge a few times a week, where he sits alone at a table with an open book while he munches on his lunch. He smiles at her when he notices her and waves her in so she has no choice but to join him.

"What are you reading today?" she asks.

"You know I'm a massive fan of British literature," he says with a little wriggle of his brows, "but in a week we'll be tackling Twain, so I figured I'd brush up on him."

Emma smiles teasingly. "I see."

He gives a little roll of his eyes. "No need tease me about it, Swan. I'm already humiliated."

She laughs. "I bet you are. But you don't have to keep pretending that England is better than America, because obviously you're working here now, so your alliances must have changed at some point."

Killian's eyes twinkle like they do when they tease each other with stupid accents in the hallway for the amusement of their students. "Perhaps they have."

Emma smiles warmly. "That's good to hear."

He tilts his head at her as he lifts his food to chew while she does the same. He is sweet, she's realized, and not nearly as hardheaded or rude as she'd assumed he was before.

And maybe she's less cranky about English now, too. He sometimes sends her emails with writing tips and she finds that they help her with her lessons.

But she isn't going to tell him that.

..

Emma signs up to be a chaperone for the school dance one Friday in the middle of December. Well, the assistant principal persuades her that it's a good idea, actually, and that's how she ends up standing by the soda table wearing a casual dress watching a bunch of blossoming adolescents grinding up on each other.

"Swan!" She swivels at the familiar voice. He smiles widely at her as he makes his way to stand beside her. "You were assigned to chaperone as well?"

Emma laughs once. "Yeah. You too?"

He hums, glancing over at the small population gathered in the tiny gymnasium. "Aye. Unfortunately."

"Come on, there's nothing better you could be doing with your Friday night, right?" Emma teases. He chuckles.

"I suppose not. Storybrooke isn't exactly a hub of activity."

She laughs along with him.

"I have some papers that I need to grade, actually." Emma admits with a sigh.

He nods in agreement. "One of the woes of being a teacher, I'm afraid."

Emma bobs her head. She doesn't know what to say or do, so she looks at the kids again.

"So when did you come to Storybrooke?" he asks.

Emma turns back to him. "Lived here my whole life. My dad's the sheriff and my mom's an elementary school teacher."

He looks a little surprised. "Really? A lass like you never ventured out?"

"It's comfortable here, I guess." She shrugs. "I did go to college, in case you were wondering. I did have to leave for that."

He smiles at her. "I would assume as much. Do you like teaching, then?"

"Yes," Emma can't help but smile wide. "I love every part of it. What about you? Is teaching your passion?"

Killian smiles gently. "I'm quite fond of literature, so teaching it is a dream."

She can tell that Killian is being serious and real with her. His eyes are soft and his smile is genuine. It isn't everyday that she runs into someone with a passion almost as real as hers. And it feels good, because bonding with him has always been fun and playful, but this feels right too.

"Good," she says in response. "That's good."

They stand there facing each other for a moment as the music changes and before she knows what's happening, he has taken her hand and is pulling her to the dance floor.

It's a slow song, and he holds her appropriately, a smirk on his lips while his hand settles at her hip. A lot of their students surround them, and she keeps making eye contact with them as he leads. The students smile and chuckle, as if they could see this coming or something.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Dancing," She opens her mouth to respond, but he goes first. "Nowhere in the rules does it say we aren't allowed."

"Yes, but dancing isn't really-" He abruptly pulls her close to him, their chests nearly pressed together.

"Try something new, darling. It's called trust."

She swallows the knot in her throat and sways with him, trying to not fall completely head over heels with the shade of his eyes or the way he speaks in a low tone to her.

"Why are we doing this?" she asks.

"It's a dance, Swan. Standing off on the sides doing nothing isn't a very pleasurable way to spend the evening. Let's show them how it's done, hm?"

She nods reluctantly and moves with him to do just that.

By the time the song ends, he has her dipped in the middle of the dance floor, and the entire auditorium practically erupts into cheers.

To say her cheeks are red is probably an understatement. She just kind of nods in acknowledgement of Killian and then storms straight outside, keeping her head down and abandoning her belongings in the bleachers somewhere.

She doesn't know how to react to _that_, and it would probably be best if she didn't have to face everyone with her body burning up with embarrassment.

She sits on the sidewalk and it is _freezing_. It hasn't snowed yet, but it will soon, and the temperature is enough to turn her into a popsicle.

It doesn't take long for her coworker to find her, his shoes crunching on gravel as he pivots in place. He sets his jacket over her shoulders with a muttered, "You'll freeze out here, Swan."

Then he sits beside her and they both stare out at the parking lot as if it is a piece of incredibly interesting artwork.

His jacket is actually really warm, and the fact that he's so nice is kind of a mind-blowing thing. She finally dares to look at him. He's so handsome, too, staring out with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw.

"Things are weird."

He looks over at her with an arched brow. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Emma takes a breath, shaking her head. "I don't know what this is. Are we friends now? Or- what?"

Killian smiles toothily. "We're friends, Swan."

A part of her has known that it's true for a long time, but there's something in the way he looks at her, even now, that has her guessing there's more to it than that.

"I'll stop picking on your American history," he adds, "so long as you promise to appreciate English."

He holds his hand out to her and she releases a relieved laugh as she shakes it. "Okay."

Killian's eyes are soft and she has a feeling this isn't the end of the feeling she has driving her heart at the moment.

"Let's head back inside before we catch something, hm?"

"Yeah. Okay."

He helps her to her feet and they stand a fraction too close, Emma staring up at him with a stuttering heart. He isn't the most horrible thing to look at and he's been really nice to her lately. It's all adding up to becoming one of those awkward crushes that you can never get away from.

She's the one that goes, heading back to the auditorium with his coat around her shoulders.

So maybe it isn't really _that_ dumb of a jacket after all. And maybe he isn't that bad either.

But she already knew that.

..

He's flirting with a blonde teacher the kids call Miss Bell when she enters the teacher's lounge one lunch hour the week after the dance. Emma had been hoping to talk with him, about anything, because she appreciates his opinions and his stories. She likes to think they've bonded a lot over their little lunchtime talks. But apparently he has other plans for today's lunch.

Emma tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut about the way they're chuckling together, but she fails, finding herself trying to heat up her soup while glancing over at them every five seconds.

He notices her, finally, when she starts to take her lunch back to her classroom and smiles, waving her over. "Swan, you have to hear this story, it's fantastic-"

"Sorry," she says with a tight smile. "I have to go. A parent's supposed to call me in a few minutes."

"Oh," he frowns. "Well, alright. Good luck."

She nods and heads out of the room with a sigh.

Maybe it's for the best. Maybe those potential _feelings_ she has stirring in her chest for Killian Jones are just her desperation for a relationship and she should take it out on someone else.

..

It gets to a point sometime in the spring that their hallway banter, awful accents or not, becomes something Emma lies awake at night analyzing and wondering if he meant anything by what he said, or by the look in his eyes.

She analyzes almost every interaction she has with him, from a simple hello in the hall to a conversation about his favorite book, for so long every night that she has to seek help from her mother, who tells her she should tell him how she feels.

Um, no. She's not telling Killian Jones that she _likes_ him. She might teach middle school, but she's not about to stoop that low.

So instead, Emma goes on a date with a science teacher named Victor Whale. He's nice enough. He's kind of boring in comparison to Killian, though.

All he talks about while they're on their date is his medical school training, and then he keeps making eyes at their waitress Ruby. That ends _that_ quite quickly.

When she sees Killian standing at his door after visiting the front office for copies, she glares a little teasingly at him, putting on her accent for him, "Well, afternoon to you, Governor!"

He glares back, in that teasing way, "And may God bless America always."

Students in the hall giggle and whisper at each other as they go their separate ways.

Emma stops at her door. He looks genuinely upset by something, not smiling in his usual stupid way.

"Hey, are you alright?"

He shrugs it off. "Aye. I'm fine, love."

Emma frowns. She knows he's not. He can fake it all he wants, but he's not okay.

"Okay, well I better go handle these kids."

Killian nods.

She sighs and enters her class, finding most of her students looking at her as if they're all in on a secret joke. "Did I miss something?"

A girl in the front row, Grace, smiles a little. "Miss Swan, did you know that Mister Jones really likes you?"

Emma gapes for a moment. "Um-"

"It's true!" Henry agrees. "He told us so!"

"He did," Emma states, making them all nod.

"That's why he's so sad today," Grace tells her matter-of-factly. "He knows you're dating Mister Whale."

"Well, to be fair," Emma speaks over Grace, "it was one date."

"Do you like him too?" Henry asks. Emma narrows her eyes at the boy and then starts for her desk as she nibbles at her lip.

"I might, I guess."

The classroom explodes. "Then you need to tell him!"

"Woah! Settle down!" Emma shouts. "I'm not going to do that."

"But you have to!" Henry insists. "Everyone sees the way you guys look at each other! You obviously need to be together!"

Emma feels almost dizzy with the weight of their words. Her heart rate quickens as her cheeks warm up. Her students start chanting. _Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!_ It almost matches the rhythm of her heartbeat.

"Okay, okay, if I tell him, will you guys settle down?"

They all cheer and nod. Better now than never, she supposes.

She sighs. "Everyone stay here."

She goes to her door and points at them to stay put before shutting the door and heading over to Killian's door. She knocks and smiles a little through the window.

He furrows his brow and then says something to his class before setting down the textbook he'd been holding and going to his door.

"Swan? Is everything alright?"

She nods. "Yeah. Can we- talk in private?"

He glances back at his class. "Continue reading. Page two hundred fifteen." Killian shuts the door and he narrows his eyes at her a little. "What's this about, then, love?"

Emma takes a steadying breath. "Um," Glancing over at her classroom, she finds that her students are all practically pushing each other out the door. It would make her laugh under normal circumstances, but she finds that she's actually _worried_. "So you know how I went on a date with Whale, right?" He nods. "Well, um, it didn't work out."

"Oh," he frowns. His brows knit together worriedly. "Are you alright?"

She laughs. "Yeah, I'm fine. He was a complete jerk on our date; but-" She sucks in a deep breath as he relaxes a little. "-But, uh, I realized it wouldn't really ever work with anyone because I have feelings for someone."

He hums. "That would make things difficult, I'd imagine."

"Yeah," Emma breathes. She studies his face. He's either really good at pulling the truth out of someone or he's clueless. She wiggles her fingers at her sides nervously before blurting out, "It's you. I have feelings for you."

He blinks, clearly not anticipating her words. "You do?"

Emma nods. She can already feel herself getting rejected. "Yeah. Pretty dumb, right?" She looks down at her feet and clamps her eyes shut. "I mean, we weren't even friends and then- then we were and all of a sudden I have feelings for you. I'm sorry."

"What? No. Don't be." Killian is smiling at her when she looks up again, almost in disbelief. He steps closer to her. Her heart speeds up again when he drops his voice. "I quite like you from time to time as well." She laughs and he smiles a bit coyly, "If I'm being honest, most of the time, actually."

She laughs again and both of them lean in toward each other until they're kissing. His lips are tantalizingly sweet and she doesn't even try to conceal the little moan that escapes her throat at the sheer joy she has that her feelings aren't one sided to this delightful extreme.

To her surprise, _both_ of their classrooms explode into such loud cheers when they kiss that it breaks them apart with laughter on their lips.

"I guess they've been rooting for us for quite some time now." Killian tells her. She nods, not even daring to look at the rooms but instead keeping her gaze fixed on his.

"I guess we should get back to work," Emma slides her hands onto his chest and nips at her lower lip. She slips out and away from him, starting back for her classroom while he watches her. She throws on her best bad accent, "Can't get caught snogging in the hallway!"

He laughs, deep and sweet. "No, we'll just have to save that for after we go on a date."

Emma just smiles.


End file.
